


Second Chance

by SilverKitsune



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 10:23:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17262524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverKitsune/pseuds/SilverKitsune
Summary: With Michael's curse starting off a new Age of Chaos, Lailah reflects on the past, and everything that brought them all to this very moment.Written for Zinestiria/Eternal Dream, a Tales of Zestiria fanzine.





	Second Chance

**Author's Note:**

> This was my entry for Zinestiria/Eternal Dream! I don't get a lot of chances to write for Lailah very often, so when the opportunity came up, I just had to take it and go with it! I hope everyone bought the zine enjoyed reading it and all the lovely artwork that was in it!

She felt a subtle shift in the air — the moment it happened. Felt the way the sunlight streaming in through the Sanctuary's windows were a little dimmer than mere moments ago, the way the air seemed a little heavier than before, the way the bright blue and gold banners hanging around the Sanctuary seemed just a little duller than before.

The humans inside continued to mill around in the front worship hall of the Sanctuary, leaving prayers and offerings alike at the altar as though nothing had happened. The idle conversation between a priest and a worshiper continued in the side hallway, and she focused on the normalcy of that to steady herself. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she reached out with her senses, attempting to seek the blessing that had always been a part of the land.

But for the first time in a millennium, she felt nothing, and when she looked around again, she saw tiny motes of darkness float up from the ground below.

_He had been so young, so very very young when he approached the altar in the Sanctuary during the festival, his arms barely able to lift her Sacred Blade clear of the altar. Those bright purple eyes, that shining optimism, all that hope – at the tender age of twelve, he had been one of the youngest to have ever drawn her blade._

_And his pure joy and excitement when he saw the Shepherd's cloak the clergy at the Sanctuary were going to give him that very first day . . . that smile could have purified a thousand hellions and more._

And yet . . .

And yet, thirteen years later, on his last visit to Ladylake Sanctuary to enshrine her sword back into its altar, his smile was little more than a grimace. The hope in his eyes, once a match for the brightest stars in the sky, were little more than a grim reflection of the horrors he had witnessed during his tenure as Shepherd. She had hoped his retirement to found Camlann and to write the book he'd often spoken of writing would be enough to keep him from losing all faith in humanity.

_My journey as Shepherd has ended,_ he had said as he looked down at his hands, _but there must be more I can do._

She stood, unheard and unseen by the other humans in the Sanctuary. She had to see for herself what had happened, to find out what pushed that gentle soul, who had only wanted to make the world a better place, to condemn it to ruin.

* * *

Securing an object to be her vessel for the journey had been no trouble, and she strode out the doors, opening them on her own, ignoring the surprised cries of the worshipers within. There was no time for niceties or delicacy as she rushed her way out past the market and to the bridge. Crossing Lakehaven Heights toward Aroundight Forest should have been exhausting at the breakneck pace she was going, but between the ever increasing pressure of malevolence and the pounding fear in her heart of what awaited her once she got there pushed her ever onward. The domain protecting the forest yielded as she pushed in, and for the first time during her entire journey, the air was clear of malevolence.

She paused, taking a seat on a nearby rock to rest, as she heard footsteps approaching her. Turning around, she spotted him – a short elderly lightning seraph, the lines on his face grim from recent events.

Rising to her feet, she bowed, paying her respects to the older seraph and Lord of the Land. “Lord Zenrus.”

“Lailah,” he greeted, “I take it you felt it too?”

She sat back down on the rock, eyes focused on her hands in her lap. “I . . . I had to know.”

“The situation is grave,” he began, “Camlann is no more.”

She looked up, trying to ignore the way her vision was starting to blur, a single thought in her mind. “And Michael and Maotelus?”

“From what we could gather, he fell and cast a curse just moments before he disappeared. No one has heard from him since, but his curse corrupted Maotelus.”

“If only I had . . . ”

“Lailah, you did the best you could,” Zenrus replied. “As seraphim we can travel with them, lend them our power, heal their physical injuries. But you know as well as I do that we cannot provide them with what they truly need: a companion that sees the world with the same perspective they do.”

She wiped her cheek on her sleeve, taking a moment to compose herself. “I know, but, if I had tried a little harder . . .” Her throat closed up then, as tears began to stream freely down her face.

She had watched him as he grew into a fine young man. She had been there the very first time he went to help a village, to purify the hellion that was raiding their farms and slaughtering their livestock, and was met with a fearful mob once the battle was finished – Michael had cried himself to sleep in her lap that night, not understanding why the villagers would react to him that way. She was there to help soothe his upset stomach after their first foray into a massacred village along the Hyland-Rolance border, before he grimly went back, determined to give the dead the peace they deserved for their final rest. She had let him be, content to not push him to share and express his feelings, and encouraged him to do “what must be done” as part of his duty as Shepherd.

And in doing so, had she realized, she may very well have led him to the start of this very path, and doomed them all.

A warm hand on her shoulder shook her out of her thoughts. “There's still hope. We managed to rescue two babies from the village, and Muse is acting as a barrier to seal off Maotelus's malevolence in Camlann to buy us some time, to let our seeds of hope mature.”

She nodded, wiping her face clear once more. “Then I will do my part, and wait for them in Ladylake with the Flames of Purification.

* * *

Nearly twenty years later, it happened once more. Another festival, another crisis, and this time, within the Sanctuary itself. Another human boy approached her altar, this one, though, was curiously accompanied by a water seraph. His gaze firmly rooted on his companion, he spoke of a dream of coexistence, of a world where humans and seraphim could live side by side together in harmony.

He spoke of taking up the Shepherd's Burden, of taking up the mantle of Shepherd, if it meant furthering that dream.

And as he drew her Sacred Sword, a single thought echoed within her mind.

_This time, I won't fail._


End file.
